


The Dreamy Detective

by InkyLoey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M, Potterlock, Set in sherlock universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-13 01:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11174223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyLoey/pseuds/InkyLoey
Summary: When Luna Lovegood gets kidnapped by the resurrected criminal Moriarty, John and Sherlock take up the case and rescue the rather odd, but intelligent woman.However, that is not where her case ends. She turns out to be more interesting than she seems and her past is nothing but a mystery to the detective, who hates not knowing.Though, after a while Sherlock starts experiencing to him unknown emotions towards Luna, which confuses him greatly.





	1. John's Deductions

"What do you see, John?" 

John furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but answered nonetheless, "I... I see people, buildings..."

Sherlock groaned, "Yes that's obvious, go more into detail."

John glared at Sherlock.   
"Okay, why are we doing this again?"

"Because," Sherlock took out a yellowish envelope from his coat. "Because of this."

John looked at the letter with a puzzled expression and took it from Sherlock's outstretched hand. He opened it and skimmed hastily over the neatly written letters.  
"What can you see, detective? -M," John read out loud, his voice criticizing. "I don't understand, what does he mean? And when did you even get this?"

Sherlock sighed and put the envelope back into his coat.   
"It means, that we should pay attention to the crowds, so John, what do you see?"

John rolled his eyes and focused on the crowd around them. The two friends were sitting on a bench in the middle of the Piccadilly Circus, hundreds of tourists around them, and the big, flashy screens flickering excitedly in front of them.

"I can see a few souvenir stalls," John began in a distant voice, but was interrupted by Sherlock.  
"Yes, so much is obvious, but what about the people? Focus on the people, John."

John shot him a dark look, which Sherlock pretended not to notice.

"Why don't you tell me? You seem to know it already," the doctor snapped.

"Fine," huffed Sherlock slightly offended, "Look at the girl with the long blond hair. Can you see her?"

John let his gaze skim through the crowd until it landed on a girl with dirty blonde hair in a pullover that was way too big for her. It made her look like a teenager, although after John looked more closely, she seemed to be in her early 30's.  
"Yeah, the one next to the souvenir stall?" 

"Yes, now look at her eyes."

"They're blue."  
Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Yes, they are blue," he mocked, "And they are nervously darting around." He looked at John expectingly. A look of realization washed over the doctor's face.

"Oh, she's nervous."

A small smile tugged in the corner of the detective's lips.

"Her hands are clearly shaking and she keeps wiping them on her hoodie. She is wiping off the sweat on them. Did you see how her eye twitched?" he said, "She's nervous, her hands are trembling, she's sweating, and some of her muscles are twitching. Those are all signs of-"

"-social anxiety," finished John in awe, his gaze glued on the blonde who was now purchasing something from a souvenir stall. 

"You're not as slow as you used to be, Doctor," Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows. "So, where are her headphones?" 

John turned to Sherlock.   
"Her headphones?"

Sherlock put his hands in front of his mouth, they were in his usual praying position. John noticed he was deep in thought, maybe in his mind palace even.

"Think, John. She suffers from social anxiety and is surrounded by thousands of people. People like her need a distraction from the crowds and that is in most cases music or a friend. But it can't be a friend seeing as she is alone and her phone is in the pocket of her hoodie, so John, where are her headphones? That must be the thing we have to notice." The detective explained and asked all the same.

"Maybe she forgot them at home or maybe they're broken? Perhaps her friend just left her alone for a minute?" John guessed.

"No, she is smart, she knows about her anxiety. She wouldn't make a foolish mistake such as that." Sherlock answered.   
John just assumed that his answer applied to all of his theories.

"Okay, so what's your th-" began John, but stopped in mid sentence as Sherlock stood up and started walking away briskly, "Oh for god's sake." 

John hurried behind the detective and eventually managed to run alongside him.   
"So why exactly are we running?" 

Sherlock's eyes were fixed on something or someone in front of the duo.   
"The girl, she's walking away," he replied swiftly and increased his speed even further. 

Upon his best friend's words, John's gaze immediately fell on a mane of tousled, dirty blonde hair that was quickly moving away from them. John wondered if the woman had already noticed them and quickened his pace as well.

The detective and the army doctor were having a hard time trying to coordinate through the seemingly endless amount of people, while keeping up with the woman. She could walk very fast. At one point, Sherlock rudely pushed a couple in their mid-twenties aside, which caused the female of them to almost fall face forward on the floor. 

John's heart was banging against his rib cage and his legs started to feel like jelly. Even though he had been in the army and was actually used to this kind of running with Sherlock, he had let himself go a bit after his and Mary's marriage. At this point, he wasn't even sure why he had let Sherlock drag him into this again. 

As they ran, the amount of people seemed to become less and therefore their way cleared up a bit.   
John noticed that the buildings around them looked rather abandoned and when a guy asked whether they wanted to buy drugs, the doctor prayed to god that Sherlock knew where they going.

Suddenly, Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks and John did the same.

"Wh-What is it?" Breathed John, steading himself on his knees. He was secretly very glad about the stop. 

Sherlock's hawk like gaze scanned the area. 

"We've lost her," he stated, frustration escaping his voice. 

It was just now that John remembered why they had been running in the first place. Sherlock's words surprised him greatly. How could the person, who knew London better than anyone else John had ever met, lose a simple woman? 

"So, what do we do now?" Asked John, having caught his breath again. 

Sherlock, who had been checking the area for any signs of secrets passages, answered, "Let's go home. Moriarty will communicate with us soon enough."

John nodded and they began their walk home.

"Do you really think it's him?" Asked John, referring to Moriarty. 

Sherlock was silent for a second, choosing his words carefully and looking straight ahead. 

"I don't know, and I don't like not-knowing," he responded, his jaw clenched.

"But, who else could it be? Why would somebody want to pretend to be him?" 

This time, Sherlock didn't answer and John didn't ask again. He knew that Sherlock would give him his answers eventually and when he had them.   
The doctor felt a bang of pity for the detective in his chest. He had just barely escaped prison and now he had to fight his arch nemesis once again. Even though Sherlock never mentioned it, John knew that the whole Moriarty thing had taken quite a toll on him. John just hoped Sherlock would be alright, even with him living with Mary.


	2. Luna Lovegood

Luna's eyelids jumped wide open, her breathing ragged and heavy in fear. Her spider like fingers clasped the silky sheets tightly, while single drops of sweat fell down her forehead. Her heart pumped against her ribcage and the adrenaline rushed through her veins. She closed her eyes and shook her head furiously, hoping she could shake the nightmare out of her mind. It helped a bit, just a bit. Her heartbeat began to calm down to its normal speed.   
Luna noticed that strands of her tousled, dirty blonde hair were stuck to her sweaty forehead and pushed them behind her ears.   
She sighed, this had been the second bad dream this night.   
As long as Luna could remember, her nights had always been haunted by those horrible pictures. Dreams about a great castle hiding in the shadows of the night and illuminated by hungry flames. Pictures of people with... wands and pointy heads that were fighting each other. And then there was this face. It was so pale, almost grey and there were these small, red eyes that glistened so evilly. Luna shuddered in fear by just thinking about them and shook her head once again, trying to abandon the pictures.

Luna's gaze traveled to the small nightstand next to her twin sized bed. Even though she had just woken up, her silvery blue eyes had already adjusted to the darkness in her small room. There wasn't much on the wooden nightstand, just a reading lamp, a scrambled pack of chewing gum, and a bottle of pills. Luna's eyes were fixed on the latest.   
Her bony hand reached out to the pills and hovered above them for a few seconds. Should she? The uncertainty vanished from her pale face as she withdrew her hand and fell back into the cushions. She had gotten the pills from her doctor, Ms Lockwood. Luna regularly came to her hoping that she was able to cure the nightmares. But after getting new pills with every appointment and the nightmares just growing stronger, Luna started to ignore her doctor's words. But Luna didn't want to stop going to her appointments either. It might sound sad, but she was sort of happy about the social interaction she got while she was there. Luna has had anxiety problems as long as she's had these dreams and, even though she really tried, it wasn't getting any better. And well, because of her anxiety, she didn't have any friends.

After hours of tossing around in her bed, Luna decided to get up. As her feet made contact with the cold floor she felt an immediate desire to crawl back into her bed, but resisted from doing so. She didn't want to lie in silence again. Luna walked carefully out of the dark room, almost bumping into the door. She didn't live in a big house; it had only one bedroom and the bathroom was very small. But she was only one person after all. She walked down the stairs to the floor on which the kitchen and the living room were located. It was the bigger floor of the two story house.   
Luna sat down on her leather couch, which she thought to be rather uncomfortable. Her tousled hair fell swiftly over the backrest as she picked up the tv remote from the coffee table to her feet. With a yawn she cuddled herself into a huge blanket and turned on the tv. Luckily, one of her favorite crime series was on. Though, the episode was already almost finished. Damn.  
Just as someone was about to be murdered, Luna could have sworn that she saw something lurking in the shadows. Just right in front of the little table next to the kitchen's entrance. Was there someone in her house? Luna's stomach flipped. No, it had surely been a trick of the light and her tired mind. She tried to focus on the tv again, they were now investigating the person's murder. But there was still fear nagging in the corner of her mind. She felt like there was someone in the room with her, waiting to snap. 

Suddenly, she felt hot breath on her cheek. She found it hard to breathe as her heart started beating rapidly. Fuck. Luna didn't dare to turn her head. She dreaded the sight. She felt a cold, leathery hand on her neck. The person was wearing gloves. As much as she wanted to, Luna couldn't move. She was paralyzed by her fear. Cold sweat began to form on her forehead as she closed her eyes. She didn't want to see what was to come next, she just wanted to be in her bed.   
Luna felt a small pinch at the side of her neck and everything went black.


End file.
